When We Were Young
by Em Dixon
Summary: Great love stories across the ages have a beginning. This is theirs. When they were young, Zuko and Katara took a chance.
1. In the Beginning

**In the Beginning...  
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He took her to hunt the Southern Raiders because he understood hate and pain and the confusion that surrounded these feelings perhaps better than anyone else. He understood the way the hate festered in your heart and began to turn to something ugly. Zuko knew his father, knew that his father would not easily or willingly disclose information about his mother. Zuko knew that he would likely never have closure. But Katara had that chance, and perhaps if she could face her mother's killer he could absorb some of her feelings. Perhaps it could be cathartic for him the way it was cathartic for her.

He took her to hunt the Southern Raiders because it was the only way he could think of for her to get out her aggression against the Fire Nation, and maybe if she hated others she wouldn't hate him.

Katara taught him that sometimes water trumps fire. Katara taught him to respect the other elements. Katara showed him that sometimes, hate isn't worth it. But if he didn't have his hate, he had nothing else. She didn't kill Yan Rah. Aang was right; violence isn't always the answer, but she needed to decide that for herself.

It was still raining, and Zuko steered Appa toward a cave on the face of a cliff. He unpacked the saddle and built a fire, used his bare essentials cooking skills to make jook. Katara was standing at the edge of the cliff, holding her elbows, not bending away the rain, and it brought back memories of his uncle imploring him to please come inside or risk infection or sickness when all he wanted to do was be alone.

He did not call to her. When she was ready, she would talk.

Zuko remembered how he had practically no appetite in those first weeks. He only spooned a little jook in her bowl. When she ate that, and sat looking into the bottom of the clay dish, he spooned in just a little more. Then he gave her some water to drink. Then he bothered her no more. He gave her more courtesy than so many had offered him. They never realized how that only made things worse.

"Thank you for taking care of me," she whispered to his back in the middle of the night.

"You're welcome."

Katara gasped. "I thought you were sleep. I didn't mean to wake you."

He shrugged, his back still to her. "I know how absolutely fucking _frustrating_ it is to have someone constantly bothering you when all you want is to be left alone. Sometimes you…"

Zuko stopped talking. He hadn't meant to get angry.

"Sometimes you just don't want to talk," she finished.

This wasn't supposed to be his time for sharing. This was her time. But maybe he needed this as much as she did.

"Can I ask you something?"

He smirked. "You just did."

She scoffed, and he wondered if she was smiling. He wouldn't roll over and find out.

"When we were sparring last week at the Western Air Temple, I threw a jet of water at you, and you freaked out. Then you went off into the forest and were gone for the rest of the day. We couldn't find you."

Zuko noticed she left out the part where he'd responded with more force than was necessary, and she and Toph had to shield them all. He kept his back to her, but she must have noticed the tension. She put a careful hand on his shoulder. A light touch that made him shudder, and made that hate coil in his stomach because it made him think of his mother and just how much he could use her right then.

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to." She pulled her hand back.

She had shown him the darkness in herself, and it was the least he could do. Answer this one question, which he knew would lead to a hundred other questions. In the back of the cave, Appa regarded them with one eye. The rain had stopped, and he blew a gust of air from his nose that made the fire waver. He left, as if to give them some privacy, perhaps sensing the weight of the memories pressing against Zuko's mind.

"It brought back some bad memories."

Zuko thought that if he was going to face her, he should face her, and he sat with his back against the opposite wall of the cave, and he told her about fighting the Agni Kai against his father, only the barest of details because that's all he could manage. He tried to concentrate the sound and shape of the words, because to concentrate on their meaning was to invite the smell of his own flesh burning, the sound of it popping and crackling like pork skin over an open flame, and he felt the nausea that always followed those memories. He stopped talking and placed his hand over his mouth, the other hand against the cave wall in case he needed to bolt.

He breathed, and when he looked up, her knees were nearly touching his knees. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to comfort her, not the other way around. He resisted her when she tried to pull him forward, but she tutted and rolled her eyes, and he gave in. She made him rest his head on her shoulder while she rubbed his back. It helped the nausea go away.

"Sometimes I still have dreams about all the things I would have done different for her," she confessed.

"Sometimes I still have dreams about the night he… In my dreams, I always fight back."

They sat side by side in the cave, their arms touching, and they confessed their trauma to each other, all the ways they'd beaten up on themselves through the years. Each time he shared something, he was always afraid that she would tell him it wasn't his fault, or that there was nothing he could have done, or that he did the right thing. Those phrases had become empty to him. She didn't say those things, instead offering another truth about herself, and in time he learned not to expect her to justify his actions.

The truth was that there _were_ other things they could have done. Zuko _could_ have fought back. Katara _could_ have found someone closer. They silently agreed not to play that stupid 'what if' guessing game, because there was no way to tell what would have happened if Zuko fought back against his father or if Katara had found one of the other warriors in the village to help. There was no way to tell if that would have only made things worse. Or better.

When they ran out of things to say, they said nothing, and they realized that was fine. Sometimes you just wanted to not talk. When Katara's head fell against his shoulder, he put his arm around her and pulled her closer so she would be more comfortable. He leaned his head back against the wall and hummed his mother's favorite song. It was the Love Theme from _Love Amongst the Dragons_.

"That's a beautiful song," she whispered, her voice barely audible over the crackling of the fire.

"It was her favorite."

He hated that damn play, but in his mind, there was nothing more _her_.

"Thank you," Katara said. "Thank you for not judging me. For letting it be _my_ choice."

* * *

><p>AN: Ok, so this is totally because of **snarkhunter**. This is the story of how Zutara began in my little continuity. And I'll try not to go on a rant about what bothered me with Southern Raiders.

The most important line in this fic for me is "Aang was right; violence isn't always the answer, but she needed to decide that for herself." No one else was willing to give Katara the chance to choose for herself. It's fine to voice your opinion, to tell her she needs to forgive, and that anger and hate will only eat away at her, but she needed to see that and decide that for herself. Zuko was the one to give her that opportunity. This implicit respect and relationship is one of the reasons I started shipping Zutara. Because, of all the relationships in the show, Zuko and Katara's was the most complex. I also think Zuko would understand how it feels to make a huge decision like she made with Yan Rah.

For those interested, I've declared the Love Theme from _Love Amongst the Dragons_ to be the Love Theme by Nino Rota from Romeo and Juliet. Seriously. Listen to it. It's amazing.


	2. When We Were Young

**...When We Were Young...  
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Zuko was absolutely positive that he was going to win this round. He was quickly closing the distance between him and Katara, dodging a water whip and backing her into a corner with a fire whip. He was glad she finally stopped holding back after he called her on it. It was amazing that no one else seemed to realize that she wasn't fighting with everything she had. Maybe he only saw it because they'd fought as enemies before they sparred as friends.

When Katara's back hit the wall, he made his move, pinning her hands so she couldn't bend, but he underestimated her. She hooked her leg around his, right at his knee, so that if she pulled back, he'd likely lose his balance, freeing her from the wall. They were breathing heavily, and she raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Your move, jerkebender."

For the moment, he was quite content where he was and tried to breathe. As their fight progressed, the clothing had come off, and she was just in her wraps, and he was just in his pants, and their lack of clothing and their closeness and the positions of their bodies hit him like a slap in the face, and he was so, _so_ glad that Sokka decided they needed to go to that stupid festival. Having a firm dislike for most festivals, Zuko had declined, which made Toph call him a wet blanket. He wasn't sure why Katara declined, but he wouldn't let himself think that it was to keep him company.

Or to end up half naked with him in a corner. They were friendly, but not _that_ friendly.

She must have noticed their lack of clothing, too, because she blushed, but despite the awkwardness, neither wanted to be the first to let go because that meant they'd lose the match. And both were too stubborn for that.

"So… Are we going to be here all night or what?" he asked.

"We can leave as soon you admit you've lost."

"Fuck that. In case you haven't noticed, I'm still in the dominant position."

To prove he was wrong, she pulled her leg back, causing him to hop around to regain his balance. Damn waterbender. Always trying to be right. Fine then. Two could play at that. Zuko hopped forward, pushing her further back against the wall, pinning her with his body. An impulsive decision, and too late Zuko realized he'd put them in an even more inappropriate position, and he was very close to Katara. Very.

Some controlling force in his body yelled 'kiss,' and before his brain had a chance to veto the idea, he did, pressing his lips against hers, their chests heaving, and everything about her was so soft and silky.

Then his eyes flew open, and he blushed furiously, backing away from her.

"I am so… I don't know where that came from!" He held his hands out as he backed away, putting good distance between them. "I just…it…" he groaned. "Fuckin Agni, kill me now."

He didn't wait to see what her reaction was. He bolted.

/

For _two days_, he avoided her. You don't kiss someone then avoid them for two whole days. Katara stirred the pot with a little more vigor than necessary, silently acknowledging that her behavior was entirely inappropriate. But who was going to tell if she only said it in her head. Toph could sense a lot of things, but she wasn't a mind reader.

She absently brought her hand to her lips, and looked between the two boys. Aang and Zuko. She tossed in a few glances to Toph and Suki and Sokka just in case anyone was watching. To throw them off her trail. Zuko's kisses weren't like Aang's kisses. Zuko kisses were dangerous kisses. Even though Aang kisses were usually 'surprise here I am!' kisses, they were still light, fleeting things. They were fun kisses, like you'd kiss when you were kids. Zuko kisses were heavy kisses. There was a reality to them, a heft and a weight that said there was no denying that his lips were on yours. He'd make you _feel_ his kisses.

Katara turned back to her pot. She should stop saying Zuko kisses like she'd had more than one. It was probably just hormones and lack of clothing. His lips were softer than she'd expected. Not that she was doing any expecting of his kisses.

When he couldn't sleep, he'd go down to the beach, which was why Katara went down to the beach that night. She'd heard him leave his room. He couldn't avoid her there.

"Zuko?"

He didn't turn around, so she came and sat next to him. She put her hand on his arm.

"I'm sorry I made things awkward between us. We just became friends. It's like… I don't even know. I mean, who does that?"

If she was being totally honest with herself, it was kind of cute the way Zuko got all flustered. She smiled at him, which only made him nervous, and he blushed and looked away.

"I mean, you and Aang—"

"There is no me and Aang."

Zuko was staring at her. Their silences usually weren't awkward, but this one was, and Katara tugged at her hair while wishing he would just say something, because she wasn't sure how he felt about that. Not that it should matter how he felt, but it did. They were Really Close Friends, and she cared what he thought.

"Did you tell Aang that you weren't together?"

"Well, no. But then Aang never _exactly_ asked me, you know? He just kind of _assumed_, and it's not like… For spirit's sake, he's twelve, was raised by all male monks, and been trapped in an iceberg for 100 years." She tugged her hair harder. "We had some great moments, and he's fun to be around… But…"

Zuko laid his hand on top of hers, effectively stopping her heart and the nervous hair pulling.

"You don't have to explain yourself to me."

He smiled, and Katara leaned in before she could change her mind and pressed her lips against Zuko's. Zuko kisses weren't bad kisses. They were just different kisses. Zuko pulled away, shocked, and Katara knew how he felt. Because surprise kisses weren't all that fun when you weren't sure why you should be enjoying them, or what was even happening. He looked at her, then looked at the beach house, then looked at her again. Then he looked out over the ocean, back at the beach house, then back at her.

"Just so we're clear about what happened… You just kissed me?"

Katara shrugged, feeling unsure of herself. Maybe Katara kisses weren't good kisses. That awkward silence hung between them for a bit, and then she felt Zuko leaning over, and ever so lightly, he touched his lips to her cheek. She gasped and turned, and her lips brushed against his. Maybe she was being a bit too eager, but she pushed him a little further, placing her hand on his unscarred cheek. He responded then, kissing her back just a little, so that it wasn't just his mouth on her mouth. It was a _kiss_.

/

Katara quickly discovered that Zuko kisses could be dirty kisses.

They were in the servant's wing, in some forgotten part of the house where the roof had collapsed after a tree fell on it. It afforded them a lot of privacy, and Katara smiled to herself as she wrapped her arms around his neck. She liked kissing Zuko, and he hadn't said no to her yet. Every time his lips touched hers, there was a little jolt in her body. It had never been like this with anyone else before. Not with Jet. Certainly not that once with Haru and his stupid mustache, and not with Aang.

Zuko pulled away from her, panting, and leaned back against the wall, his eyes closed. She watched the way his chest moved, looked at his long neck, exposed to her. She licked her lips, looked at him, with his eyes still closed. They'd been impulsive so far, so why not be a little more so. She kissed his neck, little open mouth kisses, her tongue darting out to taste him, and got a reaction she'd never expected.

He moaned, his hand coming to rest on her bottom and pull her closer before his eyes snapped open and he realized just what was going on.

"No! No, bad…" He gently pushed her away, then turned his back to her, resting his head on the wall. "No. We can't…you can't do that. Please don't do that."

Katara bit her lip, hurt. "I thought… You didn't like it?"

He was breathing heavier than ever, and when she placed her hand on his shoulder, he stiffened before sliding out of her grasp.

"Just… I just…" He took a deep breath and exhaled. When he turned to face her, he seemed to have composed himself better. He took her hands in his, before realizing what he was doing and dropping them suddenly. He blushed and rubbed the back of his neck.

"You _did_ like it," Katara said, crossing her arms. And she probably had a pretty good idea of what it was doing to him.

She stepped closer to him, and he stepped back, and they did this until his back hit the wall and he had nowhere else to go. When he could get no further away from her, she went for his neck again, and he melted at her touch. She let one hand slide from his chest, up his neck, and to his scar, and she pulled away from him then to look in his eyes. The nurturer in her wanted badly to do something for him, to make him feel good and wanted, because spirits knew he had enough of feeling unwanted. He was panting, and there was the gentlest look in his eyes.

When he kissed her again, he pulled her flush against his body, his hands at her waist. When she felt his tongue on her lips, she opened her mouth to him as he had opened his heart to her, and his tongue touched hers, stroked hers. When her knees buckled, he was there to catch her and support her. He was strong, and she never worried that he would falter. She didn't remove her hand from his scar.

"Was that ok?" he asked, blushing, when he finally pulled away.

Katara nodded, and laid her head on his shoulder.

/

This girl would be the death of him.

He wasn't sure when the groping started, or who started groping whom first, or why they were even sneaking off for these little make out sessions to begin with. He wasn't even sure why Katara would want to make out with _him_ of all people. Well, ok, her choices weren't all that great. And they did have that great trust thing going. He was her secret keeper, after all.

Katara moaned as she slipped a hand up his shirt, lightly running her fingers over his chest. He gave her ass a firm squeeze, pulling her closer to him. She pulled away from him, pushing against his chest when he tried to follow her.

"Why do you do that?" she asked, licking her delicious lips, her hand still on his chest.

He blinked at her a few times, confused, before realizing what she meant. "You've got a nice ass."

She blushed. "Really?"

Zuko put his lips to her neck. "Is this ok?" He gave her a light peck to demonstrate.

"Yes, yes." Katara pulled him closer.

He kissed her neck, little pecks at first, enjoying the feel of her palms on his back. The he flicked his tongue across her pulse, and she made the most amazing little mewl, and he did it again just to hear her make that noise again. It never ceased to amaze him how someone so uptight and bossy during the day, could be so…whatever this was at night. She turned the other side of her neck to him, and he obliged, kissing and licking and sucking, knowing things could go too far when she drug her nails down his back.

"You should let someone take care of you," he said, pulling away from her neck.

"You are."

He forced himself not to step away when she put her hand on his scar, caressing it with her thumb. She'd been doing that a lot more lately, and it wasn't an entirely unpleasant feeling. Just different. He closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. Then there was a tugging at his pants, and Zuko looked down to see Katara pulling at the strings.

"Whoa, wait." He grabbed her hand. "I'm glad you appreciate us…making out, or whatever. But you don't… You don't have to do that. It's ok."

She raised an eyebrow in challenge.

"Who said I was doing this for your benefit?"

She was going to be the death of him.

* * *

><p>AN: Sorry. Expect copious amounts of blushing in this series.


	3. We Didn't Know What Love Was

**…We Didn't Know What Love Was…  
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"It's not that I don't appreciate his help, it's just that he makes things worse sometimes."

"Maybe you should tell him."

Katara scoffed and picked at lint on Zuko's bed. "I'd crush him. He gets so excited when he comes back with some…pathetic little thing. He says all the good meat is too cute to eat."

Katara looked up to see Zuko smiling from his perch in the window. Just a little. She liked when Zuko smiled. It was like, when Zuko smiled, you knew you were doing something right, because he didn't smile all that often.

"Do you want me to tell him?"

"Hey, who are we telling what?"

Katara shrieked and nearly flew off the bed. Sokka was standing in the doorway to Zuko's bedroom, his arms crossed over his chest, trying to look as menacing as possible. Sokka was by no means quiet, and maybe Zuko had noticed him, but Katara had been too caught up in noticing Zuko. She put her hand over her heart and mustered up all the indignation she could.

"You have to _knock_, Sokka! You can't just barge in someone's room like that!" She flailed her arms for good measure.

"Well, for one thing, the door was open—" he said, gesturing to the door.

"Yeah, but not that much." Katara crossed her arms.

"—And for another thing. What're you doing in Zuko's room? Bedrooms are private places! You can't sit in a guy's room, people start getting ideas."

"What ideas should we be getting about Suki?" Zuko asked, her hero coming to rescue her from an awkward situation.

Gracefully, Zuko dropped from the window and strode over to Sokka. She was pretty sure his hand purposefully grazed her thigh when he walked past her. He threw an arm over Sokka's shoulder and began steering him out of the room.

"We're going hunting," he called over his shoulder with a casual wave.

This was not home, she had to remind herself. They were hiding out while Aang learned more firebending before he had to face the Fire Lord. There was _no way_ this should feel normal. There was no way such a simple gesture should leave her smiling so much.

/

At some point, they'd graduated to cuddling. Which meant they were in the same bed at night. They'd laid down some ground rules, like they had to be fully clothed during all cuddle sessions. Katara was firmly tucked under his chin. Her sniffles had finally quieted down, and Zuko was grateful for that, because he wasn't sure how to handle a crying Katara. It made him nervous and protective, and he just wanted her to stop crying and smile again.

Night cuddles had started when she came to him after a nightmare. For some reason, she'd chosen to come to him rather than go to Sokka or Aang or Suki. Toph was never good for comforting, so that hadn't even been an option. He'd been shocked into silence and immobility when she climbed in his bed and curled up. He hadn't been able to resist her when she looked over her shoulder at him, her eyes red.

"Feeling better?" he asked.

Zuko knew it was a stupid idea to go see the Ember Island Players. The ending had upset everyone, and now it gave Katara nightmares. He had half a mind to go burn their theater down.

"Promise you won't tell anyone, ok?" She pulled him tighter, her lips brushing against his neck.

"Not a word," he whispered.

They fell asleep, a tangle of limbs, and at some point during the middle of the night, he woke up because someone was touching him.

"Fuck! Katara, what're you doing?"

He hastily backed up to the other side of the bed.

"Sorry! I was dreaming! I…"

Zuko would not deny that he was curious about what kind of dream she was having that involved her hands roaming over his chest and trailing ever lower. He closed his eyes and turned away. Because he wouldn't admit that he liked it.

"I'm really sorry, I…"

Slowly, he turned around. There were tears in her eyes. Because he rejected her? Well, he wasn't thinking of it quite like a rejection, more of a 'not right now,' or 'are we even _there_ yet?' He crawled across the bed, dropping his legs on either side of her. Which, turned out to be more sexual than their sleeping arrangement, because now she was nearly straddling him.

"Please don't cry. It's just that we're…you know? And everyone else…they're not that far away, and I'm not even sure what we're doing, and I want it to be more than hormones, I mean…"

She laid her head on his shoulder, her hands slowly, absently running over his back.

"Just hold me."

So he did. And they sat that way, not saying anything.

"It started off like a good dream," she said after a while. "And then just before I woke up, I remembered that damn play. The way they cheered for your…"

She sucked in air through closed teeth, and he broke out in gooseflesh as the air by his neck became cool. He squeezed her tighter. This was new. It felt more intimate than all the heated kisses, all the groping and grinding. This was like that first night. This was confessing.

"I won't let that happen."

"You can't promise me that."

But he wanted to. "You've got other friends."

She pulled away and looked into both of his eyes. He knew the way most people only focused on the right, but she'd never shied away from it. None of them had, really, but he'd always chalked it up to them having been enemies. It was a quick way to identify him and it could buy them precious seconds before he attacked. But Katara was the only one to touch it. To keep touching it. And she put her hand on his scar, running her fingers over the edge, tracing his brow bone, ghosting over his eye, caressing his ear. He closed his eyes and breathed, letting her touch his deepest wound, the one that still pained him and whispered his failure and worthlessness despite that growing whisper in his heart that told him he'd finally gotten it right.

He jumped, reflexively tightening his arms around her, when he felt the faint touch of her lips on his scar. She kissed every inch of it, and this was by _far_ the most intimate he'd ever been with anyone. And they were still fully clothed. His life was exposed under her lips, and she didn't turn away from what she saw.

"But you know all of my secrets," she said into his scarred ear. "Who would I tell more to if you're gone?"

/

They'd never held hands before, not really, so as she sat across from him on her bed, Katara took his hands in hers. She couldn't help smiling when he blushed.

"Your turn. Tell me another one," he said.

"I really liked that jook you made. Would you make it for the group tomorrow?"

He smiled, and Katara couldn't remember when the other half of his mouth decided that it should act in concert with its counterpart. She liked Zuko smiles. Everyone else got smirks. She got smiles.

"Of course," he said, turned slightly away from her. "I'll make it for you tomorrow."

Katara giggled and scooted closer to him. "You go."

"I was really confused when you suggested we have this…_thing_. And just call it a thing, and not label it. I'm not used to that." His face dropped and he turned a deep red. "Not that I'm saying I go around having…things…with girls a lot. Because you're the only one who's asked. I mean…I'm making an ass of myself, and you always make me do that."

Sometimes Zuko was better at kissing than at talking, so she helped him do that. She put her hands on his shoulders, slowly eased him onto his back. He smiled into the kiss as his hands travelled up her legs to cup her bottom, and he gave a little appreciative moan when she started swirling her hips against him. Then his eyes flew open, and he pushed her back, just a little.

"You keep doing that," he said. Unlike the other times, he didn't make her get off.

"You keep liking it," Katara retaliated, wiggling again.

He closed his eyes as he grabbed her hips, and she felt him pressing against her.

"We shouldn't…"

Katara grabbed fistfuls of his shirt as they moved against each other. He rolled his hips into hers like a promise of everything he could do for her, and she threw her head back as a signal of all she was willing to give to him, and he was sitting up, switching their position, laying her on her back. He was panting when he looked at her, and Katara grabbed his shirt to pull him down to her, but he didn't budge.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes."

"I would be your first?"

She bit her lip, but didn't turn away. "Yes."

He made like he was going to move away, and Katara threw her arms around his neck, imploring him to stay.

"You are only taking what I freely give you. In case you forget, we are equals. You can't hurt me."

Zuko turned away. "It's not your body I'm worried about hurting."

They'd never spoken—directly or indirectly—about that part of themselves. It implied hope and promise for a future, but they could not be sure of the future. What they wanted was the now. They lived in the now, and she would not let him forget that.

Katara undid the tie that held his shirt closed, and his attention returned to her.

"You won't be my first," he said between small kisses.

"I don't care."

She undid the ties that held her own shirt, and as her skin was revealed to him, Zuko trailed little kisses over these new areas. She moved to undo her bindings, but he grabbed her hands and laced their fingers together, holding them above her head. He kissed her through the thin fabric, teased until her nipples were hard, then he sucked on one first, then the other. She whimpered between little pants and he whispered for her to be quiet with his mouth against her stomach. He let go of one of her hands, and she tangled her fingers in his hair as he kissed her again. She didn't even wait for his tongue to glide across her lips. She initiated, caressing his tongue with hers, as his free hand slid ever lower down her body.

"Tell me no…" he said, two fingers hooked under the waistband of her pants.

She looked at him and said nothing. He waited, longer than he'd waited before, letting it be her choice, and she kissed him again, chaste and gently, because it was so very sweet of him. Only when she laid her head back on her pillow did he slide his hands further down. She gasped and arched her body up to meet him.

"Scared?" she asked, having fully expected him to remove her pants.

He chuckled, bringing his head to rest against her shoulder, his lips brushing against her neck.

"Please, peasant." It was a deep growl as he slipped a finger inside her. "I couldn't possibly be scared of you."

Katara threw her head back as he picked a steady rhythm, rocking his whole body against hers with each thrust of his finger, and she clutched at the back of his shirt. She'd fantasized about this, and yet this moment was so much sweeter in reality. She rolled her hips to meet him as he slipped in a second finger, and she hadn't realized she was moaning out loud until he whispered for her to be quiet against her neck, his lips gliding like silk along her skin.

"Katara?" Sokka was knocking at her door. "Katara…are you ok?"

"Ahh—I'm having a private moment Sokka, go away!"

"You really should listen to me," Zuko whispered, curling his fingers inside her.

"Private moment?"

"Dammit, Sokka, ask Suki and get the hell away from my door!"

Hasty footsteps retreated from her door, and Zuko picked up the pace, as she neared her climax. She bit down on her arm to keep from making too much noise, urging him a little deeper a little longer with her hand on top of his.

When she came down from her high, he pulled her against him.

"What about you?"

"Consider it a gift."

He held her so she couldn't turn around and return the favor, and she considered that he might be shy. Fine. If that's the way he was going to be, she wouldn't give him a say in the matter anymore. She could feel his need pressing against her backside, and she started moving against him. She wasn't one to not reciprocate.

/

"You know—"

"Yeah, Toph. I know."

They were sitting at the edge of the cliff overlooking the private beach, their feet dangling into the void.

"So you're not going to stop?"

"Why should I?"

"Because it won't work."

He sighed and put his hand on Toph's head. Toph was his second favorite person to spend time with. She understood the pressure of being part of the nobility. The expectations, the demands, the way people scrutinized everything you did. Neither one of them was cut out for it, really, and they'd spent a lot of time laughing at some of the stupid things required of them by their parents.

"We just want the now," he said, fighting against that uptick in his voice that would turn it from statement to question. Because he'd begun to question, too, and it didn't matter whether she felt it or not. What mattered was that a seed had been planted inside him, and it had already taken root.

"You know that's not where it's going to stop. Sokka's starting to notice a change."

Zuko let his hand drop from Toph's head. She punched him, but it wasn't her usual hard punch. It was soft, more touch than punch.

"Don't get all broody on me."

"Sorry, Toph. This is a broody kind of conversation."

"I guess you're right. But look, all I'm saying is for you to be careful."

"Have you talked to her about it?"

Toph shrugged. "Naw. She'll have Sokka and her dad and her grandmother and maybe Suki to help her put the pieces back together. All you've got are me and your uncle. You'll need the friends more than she will."

/

Katara had her suspicions that he was a secret romantic. It was in the little caresses in the middle of the night, his deep affection for snuggling without groping, the tiny kisses he placed at the corner of her mouth, the way he held her after a nightmare.

There were candles all over the room. And he'd picked flowers. It was like those fancy romantic hotels she heard some woman blabbing about in Ba Sing Se. Zuko shrugged his shoulders and blushed.

"It's beautiful," she said before he had a chance to start saying how much it sucked, or how things could go wrong.

"So are you."

She smiled and held her arms out to him. It was ok that he was a secret romantic. She enjoyed the (more than) occasional romance scroll.

"You deserve this and so much more," he said, taking her face in his hands.

He planted those little kisses on her cheeks and along her jaw, trailing down her neck. She pulled open his shirt and helped him shrug out of it, careful to keep it out of the reach of the fire. Her heart was pounding as he guided her to the bed, coaxing her to straddle him. Before he undid the tie on her shirt, he looked at her, asking permission. She gulped and nodded, giving him his own surprise.

"I thought there'd be less things to keep track of," she said, blushing. She wasn't wearing underwear.

He smiled and kissed the place between her breasts, trailing kisses until he had her uncovered nipple in his mouth, and it felt better than anything she'd ever felt before, though she couldn't tell if that was because it was him, or because it just felt that good. Then he switched, suckling on the other. Katara gasped, wrapping one hand in his hair, the other resting on his shoulder, digging her nails in. By the time he lay her down on the bed, she was panting and desperately wanting him.

Zuko stood in front of her with his hands on the ties that held his pants closed. He looked at her in askance one last time, and without hesitation, she nodded. With the last of their clothing removed, she'd expected him to lie on top of her, but he pulled her on top instead.

"It might be better for you," he said, blushing.

Katara stroked him, just because he wouldn't let her do it any other time, and she watched the changes that came over his face, from that initial shudder at her touch to the way he licked his lips as he gripped the sheets. When she finally straddled him, his hands were gentle at her sides, rubbing up and down, encouraging, even though his eyes said she could still say no.

Slowly, she slid on to him, bracing herself against his chest. She bit her lip, stopping every so often to get used to the feel of him inside her, amazed at his control. Though his grip on her waist was strong, he didn't force her down, and he only bucked against her a few times. When he was fully inside her, she rested with her hands on his chest, and so sweetly, so gently, he ran his hands up her arms, across her shoulders to touch her face. She bent down to kiss him, and that's when she started moving. Back and forth, just a little, getting used to the feeling of him moving inside her, and when she sat back up, he put his hands on her hips, and they quickly found a rhythm, like the ocean, pushing and pulling.

They laced their fingers together, and she pulled up a little, moaning, before coming back down. Each time she pulled up, she came down on him a little harder, and they had to let go of each other, and Zuko's hands immediately went to her bottom and he guided her up and down, and she did that little swirling motion with her hips that he loved, and he nearly lost it, panting her name as they picked up speed.

Katara leaned forward, biting his collarbone to keep from crying out, and he surprised her by thrusting hard into her.

"Sorry," he panted, resuming their old pace. "I didn't think I'd like that."

"Again," she demanded, and when he didn't, she bit his collarbone.

He rolled them over so that he was on top, and he obeyed her orders of faster and right there and don't stop, and he made it all about her and her pleasure. It had been so long since it was all about her. Her pleasure, her want, her need.

In that moment, she felt that he was the only one who cared.

* * *

><p>AN: So there. That's their first time. Iroh is probably like a walking romance novel, so you don't spend large amounts of time with him and not pick up on some of that stuff. It tends to seep into young, impressionable minds. I think what Toph said to Zuko about him needing the friends more is true, which is why I don't mind her taking sides so much. Katara's got a whole support system at home. Zuko's just Iroh. Also, since Zuko hasn't had much love at this point, I imagine that just being able to _feel_ something for someone is its own reward for him. If she likes him back, great, but at least he gets to know what it feels like to care deeply for someone. And to be rewarded when he tries to please someone and finds out that he's doing it right. Damn you, Ozai :(


	4. But We Knew How We Felt

**…But We Knew What We Felt  
><strong>

When he took Katara to hunt the Southern Raiders, Zuko believed that if he didn't have his hate, he would have nothing.

The comet left him feeling super powerful. Super charged. It was power. It was strength. It was amazing.

He was calm.

Azula was out of control, her bending wild and frantic, but he stayed calm, if a little angry, as he fought against her, dispersing her blue fire with his red. Rocks exploded around him, and he was aware of other battles, of people trying to interrupt, to tip the scales in favor of his sister, but he wouldn't have it. He knew his own strengths and his own limits. For the first time, he felt like he could best Azula.

And he was. He was winning. He swung his legs around beneath him, stopping her charge and sending her rolling on the ground. She was angry. She roared at him, but he was ready.

"What? No lightning?"

He was arrogant. He taunted. He shouldn't have. Not Katara. He ran, dove, reached out for the lightning, called it to him, and it came. It came, and it _hurt_.

Zuko was only vaguely aware of sounds as his body convulsed. There was shouting, and then darkness and a lessening of the pain, and his vision came back to him.

"We're underground. I'm so sorry, Zuko, we need you to keep fighting. I'm so sorry."

She was going to cry again, and even though his muscles ached, he sat up, and the ground spit them out, and he was disoriented, but Katara was shielding them. Slowly, he got his bearings, saw that both Azula and Ozai were going at Aang.

This was the final battle. They'd caught Ozai and a section of his forces before they met up with the airship fleet. Toph, Sokka, and Suki were taking out the airship fleet. His job was to defeat Azula. Aang's job was to defeat Ozai. This was the final battle.

With a deep breath that pained him, Zuko nodded at Katara. He sent a jet of fire toward Azula, blasting her away, and he rejoined the battle, beating Azula back as the comet streaked past them in the sky, as Aang was beaten back by Ozai.

They were winning, then losing, then winning, then losing.

The comet was quickly fading, and Zuko pulled from the last of its strength, bringing a fiery kick down on Azula. She didn't block it, and the crater was a foot deep at its shallowest point, but there was no time for him to stand around and mourn his sister's descent into madness. A rock slammed into his side.

He joined Katara, and together they did their best to hold back the army, and only then did he realize that some of the soldiers were fighting on their side. They'd turned, sided with the Avatar, but it only brought minimal relief. Arrows were raining down on them, too, and the sky was darkening.

"Rain!"

Katara sounded so relieved, and she was looking to the sky. Zuko blocked two firebending attacks for her, knocked into her to remind her that they weren't safe, and that the battle wasn't over. His chest hurt, and it was painful to breathe.

"Look! The Avatar!"

The rain started falling then as there was a pause in the battle. Everyone turned to watch as Aang's energy overwhelmed Ozai's the blue lighting up the sky as it overtook the red.

But this was no Fire Nation epic. The battle did not stop just because its major players were down. They were three against a century's worth of hate and anger and conquest and superiority.

"I have an idea," Zuko said, the three with their backs to each other. "Aang, I need you to build a rock shelter. You and Katara get inside and stay safe."

There was no time for argument, barely time for his explanation, and while Aang worked, Katara stayed by him, helping him keep the area clear. Zuko took a chance. He turned to her.

"I love you."

He shoved her hard into Aang, who caught her and took her into the shelter as he widened his stance, mimicking what he'd seen Iroh do in the crystal catacombs. Fire exploded from his fingertips.

With a shaky breath, he looked up at the raging storm. He begged Agni. Just this once.

When he raised his hand, the lightning came to him.

Away from his already weakened heart, down through his fire chakra, back out.

It was like nothing he'd ever felt before.

He didn't need his hate anymore.

He'd never feel again.

* * *

><p>AN: ...sorry to end on such a downer. Yes, Zuko just died. Don't worry. He got better. I thought his journey through the series was something of a death and rebirth journey; Avatar Extras said it mimicked the story of Buddha, which I found extremely interesting for someone who wasn't the main character of the show. I've been sitting on a few one-shots that I'm going to string into a series that deals with the aftermath of this event from the POVs of several characters, that I need to get around to finishing/uploading. In _The Chase_, I have Katara saying she came to terms with her bloodbending when it brought Zuko back to life (Aang helps by pushing air into his lungs). This is where it happens. At this point, he doesn't need Katara to tell him that she loves him (and not just because he's dead); it was enough for her to show him that he didn't need to be so full of hate and anger, for her to show him tenderness, and to validate him. To tell him and show him that he matters, and that he makes a difference. This is also the first time I'm showing my version of the final battle. Hm. Thought I would have done that by now.


	5. And That's All That Mattered

**…And That's All That Mattered**

Katara elbowed Aang first in his ribs then his shoulder to get him to let go of her. She ignored his hands grabbing at her shirt and ran out into the rain. She dropped to her knees beside Zuko's body, rolled him over onto his back. He looked peaceful, serene.

An arrow grazed her shoulder as she leaned down to hug him to her, and she whimpered as she stroked his cheek, and when the arrow came this time she used the steady rain to rip it to shreds. It was _them_. Them up in the tower of the Fire Sages Temple that had disrupted the flow of lightning, that made it attack his heart—her heart.

She held her arms out, flicked her wrists, and the rain turned to ice, turned to daggers, turned to spears, and she swept the spears across the upper level where the arrows were coming from, and those foot soldiers that made like they were going to attack again stopped. She turned on them, her eyes wild, her heart shattered because twice—twice—he'd sacrificed for her, and she had two gifts left to give him.

His kingdom.

His life.

Katara's nostrils were flared with pain and anger, because this wasn't the way things were supposed to end. It was war, yes, but none of them had ever thought someone would die.

"Lay down your weapons unless you would attack your Fire Lord," a middle aged woman called as she and a tall man trotted towards the battlefield, trailing behind them a group of soldiers and attendants.

Katara turned her back on them, tuned them out, because if bloodbending could be used to stop a heart, could be used to control the blood, then it could give life as well as it could take it. Someone was keening and whimpering, and she knew it was her when she saw her hands shaking as they pushed aside Zuko's decimated shirt.

"Katara?"

She roamed her hands over his chest, searching for the blood underneath, calling it to her. He was cold, no evidence of his inner fire remaining. She gulped and squeezed, thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump, the sound of a beating heart. Push and pull his blood. Thump-thump, thump-thump, thump-thump. It wasn't working. Maybe she had the rhythm wrong. He always said she was good at rhythm, being a waterbender. She understood steady push and pull, and Katara laid a hand over her own heart as she lay doubled over, her head resting against his shoulder as it had many times before. As she was determined it would be again. Even her staccato heartbeat was better than nothing.

Thump-thump-thump-thump, hers went. Thump-thump-thump-thump, she made his go.

"Aang, help me! Please, Aang, help me!"

Her voice trembled, and she wasn't sure if he could hear her, because if he could, there was _no way_ he'd just be standing there like that, his mouth hanging open. Zuko wasn't just her friend, he was Aang's too, had given up so much just to be here at this moment. There was _no way_ that Aang, who said he held all life sacred, would back down now.

"For spirit's sake, Aang, he needs air! Don't let him _die_!"

Aang looked down at Zuko's body before slowly coming over, the accusation in his eyes saying that Zuko was already dead, but she didn't care. As long as her heart beat, so would his, even if she had to follow around him, making it beat herself.

She tried again. Thump-thump-thump-thump. Nothing.

"Please…"

She was rocking back and forth against him, her forehead rubbing his shoulder. She was a master bender, surrounded by her element. She was the last Southern waterbender. She was a master surrounded by her element.

"Please…"

Katara gathered water and willed it to seep into his body, finding the wounds in his heart, coaxing the muscle back together, healing the passageways that would allow it to receive blood. Time meant only the rain beating down on her back, already soaked, and his chest swelled with air, and she started crying harder because she thought that maybe, maybe that was just what he needed. She looked up, hopeful, and yet not willing to hope.

It was Aang, slowly pushing little gusts of air into Zuko's lungs.

"Thank you…" she said feebly.

There was no time to waste. She needed both of her hands and ignored that dizziness that was starting to come over her. Beat, beat, beat, was her mantra as she squeezed his heart with one hand and made the blood flow with the other.

"Zuko," she called, "Zuko, listen to me. You have to come home. We're waiting for you. We need you. I need you. Zuko, please come back to me."

She was the puppetmaster and he was her puppet. Beat, beat, beat, breathe, beat, beat, beat, breathe.

Breathe.

His eyes fluttered open, and she didn't know if he was breathing and beating on his own, but she kept pumping, refusing to stop, just in case.

"You did it, Katara, you did it…"

She'd seen his beautiful gold eyes, made all the more beautiful because she thought she'd never see them again, and the rain keeping time stopped beating against her back, and Katara thought that maybe this was all a bad dream. Katara thought that when she opened her eyes for real, she would be laying next to him in bed, and he would holding her, stroking her hair, keeping away the nightmares.

"We should get him out of the rain. We'll need to keep his body warm and clean his wounds."

People were coming, trying to take him away from her, but she held onto him, struggled against them, saw Aang trying to pry her off.

"Don't you do this to me, Aang. Get off me, let go."

But she was weak, and tired, more tired that she was willing to admit, and she couldn't really keep them off her. She whimpered and collapsed when she tried to stand. Then someone was pulling her up.

"I am Minister Hau, Senior Secretary," he was saying. "We are loyal to Fire Lord Zuko, and you have done this nation a great service."

He was talking to her, walking her in the same direction they'd taken Zuko, holding her up, her feet dragging limply on the ground. He was naming people, giving them titles, telling her their functions, just talking, talking, talking, and Katara tried to focus on the sound of his voice. The woman with the umbrella was the Head of Household Staff, Mistress Yina. The nervous older man was Cultural Minister Ukani, the woman at his side, Cultural Minister Lide. They were there to help.

She was shown to a room in a nearby house, and she slept because she was exhausted and her body could do no more, and when she woke, she ate, but she didn't know what. She bathed. New clothes were given to her. She ate again. They let he see Zuko.

They'd cleaned and bandaged his wounds, and Katara checked every inch of him with her hands and her bending, because she would not trust them to do it right and to keep him alive. His heart was still beating steadily, weakly, and she ignored the familiar voices calling her name. Sounding like Sokka and Suki and Toph, and she just focused on her water and watched it flow over him, touching him, answering to her will. Mend, she told it. Mend.

She hadn't realized she'd been talking out loud until Sokka came and threw his arms around her neck, hugging her, but still letting her work.

"Suki had to take Toph out," he said, his voice thick. "It was too much for her to see Zuko like..." He shrugged.

She lost control of her water, and it splashed over him, and she turned in Sokka's arms and hugged him and cried, because it wasn't fair, and the weight of all they'd done was only just beginning to seep into her core being.

"I know," Sokka said, crying himself. "We never thought…"

But he didn't finish, and she was grateful for that. Then there were other arms around her, and she realized that they'd all come together, everyone, and they were standing at his bedside, hugging each other and crying, unable to keep this darkest of realizations out of their minds.

They fought in a war, and there was no such thing as war without death. They'd killed. They'd been killed. Nothing would change the weight of what they'd done.

For the first week, they gathered like this at his bedside, hugging each other and crying and hoping. Slowly, others began to trickle into the Fire Nation. Her dad, Haru, Teo, The Duke. The Order of the White Lotus. They all came to stand at his bedside. Haru once said that he'd come to pay his respects. Katara bent him out of the room, yelling that Zuko was _not_ dead, that his heart was still beating. Her father had pulled her into a hug and held her as she cried, because guilt was starting to catch up to her, too. If she could go back in time, would taking Aang's advice and never hunting the Southern Raiders have prevented this moment? If they had never gone on that trip together, had never started sharing secrets and kisses and intimate moments and _themselves_… Would that have prevented his death? Would she be willing to give that all up?

Yina was making people swear fealty to him, even though he was unconscious. The men Iroh said had been the crew on his ship stood watch to make sure no one tried anything. But they did, anyway. These people did not fare well.

They took turns watching over him. The second week, the man named Hau called Iroh to the side, and they spoke in quiet tones, and Iroh nodded solemnly. Katara didn't care what they were talking about. She gently combed through Zuko's hair, brushing it away from his face. His body was warmer, and by the third week when she was healing him, it almost seemed back to its normal temperature.

"Iroh's holding the throne for you," she told him. She'd taken to talking to him. "Zuko, we miss you. I miss you." Tears were dripping on his face. "Aang's working with Iroh and Hau on a peace treaty, but everyone wants to wait for you to sign it. Your heart's stronger now."

Sometimes she would fall asleep at his bedside, even though it wasn't her turn to keep watch.

"Katara?" It was Aang. "You can get some sleep now. It's my turn to watch."

"That's ok," she said, wiping away fresh tears. "I'm… I'm fine."

"You're exhausted, Katara, you should get some—"

"I said I'm fine."

She hadn't meant for her voice to be that harsh, to make Aang recoil like that, or to make him look questioningly between her and Zuko. He sighed and closed the door, sitting down in a chair on the opposite side of the bed. He was looking at Zuko, but he talked to her.

"Do you love him? Is that why you're doing this?"

Is that what he came to ask? Katara gripped the sheets in her fists, glad that Zuko was unconscious, unsure whether she would call it love, sure that it wouldn't matter anyway. They knew what was between them was only a _thing_, something fleeting. She would never be accepted by the Fire Nation. He had duties. She had duties.

"That's not what this is about, Aang," she hissed at him. "Zuko is my _best friend_, and he gave his life to save us, to end the war."

"I know he did, and believe me, Katara, I'm thankful for everything. It's just that—"

"Then why are you here?"

Aang frowned at her, that look he got when he was disappointed in someone. Her bottom lip trembled. He wondered if he saw the hesitation in her eyes, the way she was questioning the depths of her own feelings. Every moment she and Aang had after this would always be tainted by her avoidance of his question. Every moment would be tainted by her lack of a concrete answer. At least she had given him the truth. Whatever else she felt for Zuko, she knew that, without a doubt, whether it would ever be possible for them to be together in anything other than their dreams, nothing would change the fact that Zuko was her best friend.

"No one was supposed to die. I…I didn't think…"

When he started to hug her, she let him, even throwing her arms around him, but he was so thin, so fragile feeling. He pulled her tighter and held her, and she didn't push him away.

"He's Sifu Hotman," Aang said, trying for a little levity. "He chased us all the way around the world, fought against you in the Spirit Oasis, faced down his father and his sister, went with me to find the dragons. Katara, he took on _Sokka's socks_. He doesn't give up without a fight."

Katara laughed despite her anxiety and fear.

It was four weeks after the final battle when she felt a hand, heavy on her head. There were only two people in the room. Her and Zuko. And it wasn't her hand. She gasped and looked up to see him smiling weakly at her.

"Zuko?"

She didn't dare manage anything more than a slight whisper, treating him like a skittish animal, afraid that some part of him would run off and he'd be comatose again. He nodded briefly, and when his eyes closed, they didn't stay that way. They opened again. Gold eyes looked at her.

She kissed him. Kissed him for all she was worth, because there was no sweeter joy ever to be felt in her life. She pulled away, then thought better of it, kissed every part of his face, every part of his scar.

He smirked at her. That silly little half smile of his. So him. So Zuko.

So _alive_.

Ozai didn't know the _meaning_ of the word phoenix.

* * *

><p>AN: To the person who believes I _ever_ shipped Kataang: Lolwat? Again: lolwat? And I'm not sure we're reading the same fic if you think this ended Kataang. Because it didn't. Also, small edits.


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